


Riding

by MsImpala67



Series: Across the Millenia [7]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Jensen is topping from the bottom, M/M, Rimming, Witch AU, cowboy!Jensen, top!Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 22:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: Misha and Jensen spend a day alone on their homestead. The horse isn't the only one who gets ridden.





	Riding

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of my coven!verse. You can follow it at my tumblr!
> 
> spncovenverse.tumblr.com
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**_Cheyenne, Wyoming, 1896_ **

Misha takes a break from writing and leans back against the tree, scratching his back on the bark a little as he closes his eyes against the sun. It’s truly fall now, and the air has a delicious bite to it that he’s missed during the summer months. 

If he listens closely, he can hear the trees starting to slow down, can hear their yawns as they settle down to sleep through the cold and the snow. When he digs his fingers into the cool grass, he can feel it in the earth too. It’s the passage of time, the gentle rhythm of the planet, ancient and steady vibrations shutting everything down, calling for the rest before renewal and rebirth. 

It’s a rhythm he feels in himself sometimes, too. Six hundred some odd years is a long time to be alive. Each century is a lot of change to take in and process. 

Jared has no winter inside of him. He is an eternal early summer, when life is at its peak and there seems to be no end in sight to the vibrant colors and the buzzing movement. Right now, he’s in town, thirty miles away, writing to inquire about a trip to Mexico. Planning their next adventure. And even Misha has to admit that the fast pace of their life is intoxicating. _Jared_ is intoxicating. 

And then he opens his eyes and sees Jensen. 

Jensen understands. Hibernation comes as naturally to him as it does to Misha, and they spend plenty of stolen moments being quiet together. 

Like right now. Jared will be in town for a few days, and Misha and Jensen have the homestead to themselves. So far, Jensen has spent his time on his favorite horse, exploring the countryside and enjoying the weather. Misha watches as he returns home, strong thighs squeezing the horse, guiding her with his legs rather than the reins held loosely in his hands. 

He’s breathtaking. Misha forgets his writing, forgets about enjoying the gorgeous weather, and just stares at Jensen, tall and strong, bobbing up and down with the horse. If Misha was close enough, he knows he would see the sweat soaking through Jensen’s shirt. 

It’s as if Jensen can hear his thoughts. He probably can. And if not, he can certainly feel their intent. And Misha feels his answer, feels the tug pulling him toward the stables. 

By the time Misha joins him, his journal and pencil tucked under his arm, Jensen is naked. His clothes are neatly folded over the saddle, resting on its bench, while a totally bare Jensen murmurs to the horse as he rubs her down. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “Such a good girl.”

“You never praise me that way,” Misha grins. 

“You never let me ride you for hours,” Jensen replies, not looking at Misha as he carefully steps to the other side of the horse with his bare feet. 

Misha hardens in his pants instantly.

He stands there patiently, watching as Jensen takes care of his animal, strong hands working delicately, slowly. Magic would take care of the animal faster, but Jensen never uses it when he’s working this way. He likes the soreness in his muscles, likes the connection to the horse. 

Jensen likes the normalcy of it. The same way Misha likes the normalcy of writing his thoughts down. 

Misha waits until Jensen is finished to slide up behind him, runs his hands over the muscles of that strong back while Jensen feeds his horse an apple. 

“You want to ride me?” he murmurs, digging at knots he feels in Jensen’s shoulders. “You sure you don’t want me to ride you?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jensen answers simply. 

“Of course it does. Tell me, which do you want today?” Misha wiggles his fingers as they trail down Jensen’s spine, purposely sending little waves, little sparks of heat into Jensen, smiling at the shivers they produce. 

“I’ll praise you like I praise my girl here, if you let me ride you as long as I want to.”

Misha holds out his hand and shifts the breeze blowing through the stable, enough that it catches Jensen’s hat and sends it flying right to them. Jensen still doesn’t turn around as Misha places it on his head, then wraps his arms around Jensen in a tight hug, his hard cock nudging through his pants to get at Jensen’s ass. 

“Okay, cowboy. You’ve got your hat on. Let’s go for a ride,” Misha growls, biting at Jensen’s earlobe. 

Jensen turns around then, and Misha’s hand is already waiting to wrap around his hard cock, to stroke once, hard, before he’s backing away to take off his own clothes. Jensen uses the opportunity to grab one of the clean horse blankets and spread it on the ground. Not the most comfortable, but it will do. 

It scratches against Misha’s bare back when he lies down, but he doesn’t mind, because Jensen is standing next to him, towering over him with all that skin, with all that power simmering in those muscles, waiting for Misha to tell him what to do. 

It’s not their usual way of doing things. Jensen is the only person who has ever made Misha want to give up his dominating control, the only person who Misha has ever taken orders from, and he’s used to Jensen pounding into his ass, not the other way around. But every now and then, when Jensen is particularly relaxed and serene, he wants it this way. 

And who is Misha to argue?

But just because Jensen wants to feel Misha inside of him doesn’t mean he’s not still in control. He steps over Misha, feet on either side of Misha’s head and squats down, offering himself to Misha. It would probably seem crude to other people, if they could ever look past the fact that Misha and Jensen were both men, but they’re about five hundred years past any kind of modesty. Jensen wants his ass licked, and that’s that. 

And Misha is happy to oblige.

Curling his tongue, Misha leans up and flicks it back and forth, letting Jensen’s hole flutter and open above it, until he can thrust in a little, until Jensen’s shaking and has to kneel rather than squat so he doesn’t fall over.

“Thought you wanted to ride,” Misha says. “That includes my face.”

Jensen doesn’t respond, just lowers himself until he can rock back on forth on Misha’s face, hole positioned right over Misha’s open mouth, wet tongue hanging out. Misha reaches up to rub at Jensen’s thighs, to encourage him, to send more little heatwaves from his fingers into Jensen’s skin. 

“Ohhhh,” Jensen moans, lacing his fingers with Misha’s and squeezing as he rocks. “That’s so…”

Misha couldn’t respond if he wanted to, can barely breathe with the tight muscles of Jensen’s ass clenching on his face, practically smothering him. He moans a little, squeezes Jensen’s thighs harder, works his tongue into Jensen’s hole perfectly every time Jensen rolls his hips. 

“You like this too, don’t you?” Jensen asks. 

Misha moans again. 

“And you do it so well,” he praises, brushing his fingers through Misha’s hair like he’s stroking his horse, exactly the way Misha asked him to. 

Jensen stays there for a while, enjoying the slow, wet licks of Misha’s tongue. Misha uses every skill he’s learned, everything he knows Jensen likes. He doesn’t urge Jensen to hurry, doesn’t move his hips or pay any attention to his own throbbing cock. Jensen will get there when he feels like it. 

And it’s worth the wait. When Jensen finally pulls away and moves down Misha’s body, Misha can barely feel his lips and tongue, his hair is a matted mess, and he’s sure his skin in flushed red, and that’s how he wants it. He wants to know that Jensen is satisfied. 

“Want me to open you up?” he asks, reaching toward Jensen, but Jensen shakes his head. 

“No. Not with your fingers.”

Slowly, Jensen reaches behind himself and lines Misha up, locking his thighs around Misha’s hips. 

Misha watches, unable to tear his eyes away as Jensen sinks down, just a little, just enough for the tip of Misha’s cock to feel all that tight heat. The hat is still on his head, muscles of his stomach rolling as he sinks down, and he looks every bit as in control as he did on the horse, every bit as natural and competent. 

Misha has to close his eyes for a moment. He has to breathe. Jensen said “hours”. And while that was probably an exaggeration, Misha is sure he wants more than five minutes, which is how long Misha’s going to last if he doesn’t calm down. 

Jensen adjust his knees as he continues to lower himself, little by little, biting his lip. The only sign that he’s at all affected by this is the snarling breaths he lets out, hot as they reach Misha’s skin.

“There,” Jensen moans when he’s full, Misha’s cock totally buried. Misha’s balls are pressing against him, and Jensen’s cock is dragging against Misha’s stomach. 

Perfect. 

And Jensen starts to ride. 

He starts off slow, rocking back and forth almost gently, fingers playing over Misha’s chest, then reaching up to adjust his hat. Misha smiles up at him, lost in the rhythm of his body, lost in the late afternoon light glowing through the doors and playing over his skin. Misha doesn’t have to hold back now. He can relax into it, can lie there and just enjoy the slow burn as Jensen thrusts. 

“So perfect,” Jensen whispers. “Such a good boy.” He says it with a playful grin and a light slap against Misha’s side, but it doesn’t make Misha smile. It makes him throb, makes him harden even more inside of Jensen. 

Jensen notices. “You like that? You weren’t teasing about wanting to be praised like my horse.”

His hips start rocking faster, and Misha wants him to keep talking, but he doesn’t. Instead, he rubs at Misha’s chest, down his sides, reaches behind himself to stroke at his thighs. He brushes his fingers through Misha’s hair, slides two fingers over his jaw. 

Misha can feel the praise through his fingers, the warm words flowing through them, words of love, like Jensen understands his very soul. And Misha has no doubt he does. 

It doesn’t take hours, but Jensen does take his time, riding slow and steady, rolling his torso sometimes, bouncing up and down others, both of them mostly quiet, finding a peace in the rhythm of their bodies, almost finding rest in it. 

Lost in each other’s eyes, they relax, slip into an almost-trance of pushing and pulling against each other, breathing the same breaths, fingers eventually lacing together. It settles inside Misha, calming and stilling him like the winter that he won’t get this year when they run off to Mexico. 

They even come slowly, the waves of it washing over them gently, taking its time to ease out of them. 

Misha lies there afterward, breathing slowly, until Jensen leans down to kiss him, a long, slow kiss that ends with Jensen’s hat on the ground. 

“Come on,” Jensen finally says. “Let’s get back to the house.”

They walk back naked, a little chilled in the evening air, but there’s no need for clothes right now, hands tucked together between their bodies. 

Quiet. Existing together. Hibernating together. Renewing each other. 

Misha knows deep down that Jensen and Jared belong with each other, and that he’s just a very lucky partner to their already complete couple. But days like today, he gets a little bit of Jensen all to himself. 

And it’s enough to sustain him through all seasons.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is my lifeblood! XOXO


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